The Kommandant's Lover
by nena92
Summary: Just arrived to Auschwitz,to save his brother from a certain death,Feliciano a boy of nineteen, Jew with a passion for music, will be forced to become the lover of the ruthless and cruel Kommandant Beilschmdt. Warning inside.
1. Dragged to Hell

**Warning**: sensitive issues such as: concentration camp, sex, blood and violence. To the entente possible, of course. If you don't like don't read.

**Reading is not suitable for an audience sensitive or minor. I think it's M for the argument that section. Maybe R-18, still do not know.**

**I apologize for my grammar. English is not my first language.**

**The characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

Rome, 16 October 1943.

Feliciano Vargas he had just turned nineteen years and slept peacefully the sleep of the innocent. The clock on the wall of the room that he shared with his older brother Romano-a boy grumpy and aggressive-ticked past 4.30. The whole room was enveloped by the warmth of that 16 October just started and the boy could not imagine how in a few minutes his life would be changed forever, turning in his worst nightmare.

A scream, followed quickly by others, made him start with fright , waking completely.

With expression tense and afraid, the Italian turned toward Romano with the intention to wake him, but saw him already sitting up in bed, stiff as a statue which stared with concern the door of their room.

"Romano, what's going on?" asked in a trembling voice the boy, as he heard out of the window of the room the screams of women and children mixed with other stronger and excited, into a language unknown to him.

"I do not know," he replied after a moment the boy in a tone of voice low enough, and got out of bed while Feliciano felt that he could not get out of bed for the fear that felt at that moment.

"Hide!" Came screaming his grandfather, an old man, but the stocky build and strong, looking at the guys which still confused they were wondering what was happening. "They got the Germans!"

Feliciano felt his heart stop while a painful feeling of anxiety and panic gripping the stomach, making him want to vomit. The Germans they had come to Rome? What did they want?

Suddenly, his mind began to make room some tales he had heard about the Germans and what they were doing to people like him, the Jews. Would happen to them?

Terrified he passed frantic gaze from his brother Roman, who had remained silent, eyes wide, to his grandfather who watched them with a worried look and serious.

"Romano, take your brother Feliciano and hide in the compartment behind the cabinet" began to give orders his grandfather while the steps that the Italian recognized as those boots, were becoming ever more close and heavy. "Now!"

Romano quickly grabbed Feliciano by the arm and literally dragged him out of bed.

"Hide!" commended himself his grandfather, while off door of their small apartment someone knocked and began to scream.

Before hide inside the compartment behind the cabinet, Feliciano looked for the last time the clock on the wall. The big black hands marked the 5.30.

Romolo, the grandfather of the brothers Vargas, went to open the door and found himself in front of a German soldier who wearing in the typical uniform green color, gave him a telegram.

"In twenty minutes you will be ready!" said the German in an Italian forced and slow.

Romolo, read the message:

**16 Ottobre 1943,Roma.**

**Ordine per tutti gli ebrei del ghetto di Roma:**

**Dovete essere pronti in 20 minuti, portare cibo per 8 giorni, soldi e preziosi, via anche i malati, nel campo dove vi porteranno c'è un'infermiera.***

The man glanced over the shoulder of the soldier and saw frightened women carrying bags with them and luggage while some soldier were escorting them out of their apartments pointing behind their backs the cane of their rifles blacks and gave jostling with anger, shouting orders in German.

His grandchildren were not to be discovered. Feliciano and Romano were to remain hidden if they wanted to save their lives.

"Hurry up, Jew," cried the soldier irritated, brandishing a gun in front of his face with make threatening. "Hurry up or I swear I'll kill you here! You're making me lose my patience. "

Without saying a word, trying to hide his fear, Romolo was about to close the door, when a soldier came up to that other, and whispered something in his ear , while he was holding what seemed like a list.

The soldier nodded as he watched Romolo, then at the end asked:

"In this house there are also two guys named Feliciano Vargas and Romano Vargas?"

Feeling the blood freeze in his veins, concerned for his grandchildren, Romolo answered quickly, "No, they died two years ago"

The other soldier that was came after, glared at him, waving in the air the deck of sheets in his hand, exclaimed, "Do not lie dirty Jew! Here we have the list of all Jews living in the ghetto! "

The man does not give up and repeated "They died two years ago"

German, impatient , raised his gun and pointed him against his chest " Tell me where they are or I swear I make you a hole!"

"They are died!"

The soldier grinned, then motioning the other to enter the apartment, said to Romolo "So, now you will reach them!"

Feliciano heard a shot and clung stronger to his brother, afraid.

"You too heard the sound of gunshot, Romano?" asked an anguished voice to his brother, as he felt his eyes pinching and a painful presentiment make space within him. "Was not the sound of a gunshot, right?"

Romano did not answer but he merely put his hand over his mouth, not to make him talk.

The Italian looked up and as he was crushed against his brother he could see clearly the big tears streaming down his sharp profile and masculine, and lips bent into a grimace of suffering he heard him cursing.

"Maledetti bastardi, maledetti bastardi!"

Feliciano buried his face in his hand and tried to keep from crying. Not had to cry or the sacrifice of his grandfather would have been useless.

"When you are afraid, pray to God and he will come to your aid." This always told him his grandfather when he was afraid. "The words of God never abandon you, believe me."

Choking back sobs, Feliciano began to pray:

"Padre Nostro che sei nei Cieli…"**

He heard a noise, as of objects that are thrown to the ground and then trampled.

"Sia sempre santificato il tuo nome"

Now a harsh voice was shouting and thundering "wo Sie sind, ihr Verfluchten Juden! Wenn du nicht kommst aus, das schwöre ich, werde ich mit dem ganzen Haus brennen! kommen hier, sofort!"***

"Venga il tuo regno, sia fatta la tua volontà, come in Cielo, così in Terra…"

The bedroom door creaked in a worrying way, then the noise of boots echoed through the room, along with a voice.

"Ma liberaci dal male. Amen"

The soldier looked around and began to toss and turn everything that found in front. Before the bed of Romano, then that of Feliciano. With a kick he threw down a box, overthrowing on the floor the contents of the box. . Then he began to hum a nursery rhyme as he approached to the cabinet:

"Was denkst du, Kätzchen?"****

"In einer Maus!"

"Wir könnten spielen wollen?"

"Ich möchte nur zu essen!"

Holding the gun in front of him, opened the cabinet doors and threw out the clothes.

Feliciano clinging closer to his brother began to tremble with fear while Romano had become hard as a rock.

"Please, Dear God, please"

The door behind the cabinet was opened and in front of them found the grinning face of the German soldier who uttered the last words of the nursery rhyme:

"Warum? Was hat er getan?"

"Nichts. Aber die Katze

und die Katze, weißt du,

großer Freund der Mäuse war nie!"

Hypnotized with fear and with the heart stopped in throat, the two brothers stared at the soldier in front of them. At Feliciano the scene, everything, It seemed surreal. Until recently he was sleeping in his bed, thinking about the wonderful party that had just celebrated. That day they invited their neighbors and their friends. They had celebrated until 1:00 at night, singing and dancing. Pietro, the best friend since childhood of Romano, had given to Feliciano a watch, of those with the leather strap, while Marco, the best friend of Feliciano, had given him a new pair of shoes, leather brown. Both of his parent of Marco, before the racial laws prevented them to work, they sewed shoes in one of the best boutique in Rome. And Marco always rode through the streets of Rome with a new pair of shoes and beautiful. He had him always envied for it. But now he too had a new pair of shoes, made of leather. And Alice, the girl as sweet as honey, the daughter of a seamstress and a mechanic, had made him a shirt. She had hand sewing a shirt for him! He thought of the happiness mixed with embarrassment he had felt, when with a beaming smile and shy at the same time, she had shown him the shirt.

"Come on, try it!" She had said.

And he had worn the shirt, which was suited to him. "Alice, is beautiful!"

The girl laughed. "Really?". And he had nodded.

And then he had told, while his heart pounded like a drum in his chest. "Yes, but not as much as you."

Alice blushed to the tips of the ears and had lowered its beautiful green eyes like emeralds on his hands, small and white, fiddling with his fingers while all the guests were erupted in laughter and they had booed showing their appreciation.

"Finally there You did it, brother!" he had congratulated him his brother Romano, giving him a pat on the back. "That's how you talk to a girl! I've always said that you are a true romantic!".

They danced, keeping the volume low, and finally Alice, she had kissed him. In reality it was a shy kiss and chaste, light as the flapping of the wings of a butterfly. But it was enough that simple kiss to make him blush and smile.

And now he had been awakened, locked in the closet while his grandfather was dead, killed by a German soldier, perhaps by the same German soldier who was now pointing the gun at him and his brother Romano and looked at them as if they were dirt, the mud that he always took off from under his shoes when he came into the house.

"And now, what will become of me, of my brother Romano?" He began to think Feliciano. "And Alice, where is it? And Marco?"

"Get out, get out! Immediately!" he barked with anger the German soldier always keeping bulleted on them the shotgun. "Come and take your rags!".

Feliciano afraid looked up at Romano, wondering if his brother would obey the order. His older brother looked at him for a moment, then left him and with his hands raised above his head came out of the closet. Feliciano was about to exit, when his brother shouted at him "Escape! Get out!" and punched the soldier that does not expecting the blow, he could not defend himself and fell unconscious to the ground.

The Italian looked at the soldier fell to the ground and felt his legs begin to tremble.

"Run fool! Get out!" Romano shouted at him pushing him towards the window "Exit through the window and hide!"

Feliciano, with his brown eyes, stared pleadingly his brother Romano "I can't leave you alone! And what will you do?"

"Go away, you idiot! Run that are coming other soldiers! Get out!"

Feliciano was about to exit the window when in the room raided two soldiers, which seeing their comrade lying on the ground unconscious, one attacked Romano while the other grabbed by the hair Feliciano and threw him to the ground, pointing their guns against them.

"Do not make missteps, dirty Jews!" they said the soldiers to their, while with violent jerks and blows to the back, , made them gather in their bags the first things that were under the hand.

Feliciano was able to take the watch with leather strap, the shirt made by Alice, some pants but did not had find the violin that had given him his grandfather when he was seven.

"Raus! Raus!" they had continued to scream the soldiers. The body of his grandfather they had not found, on the threshold had remained just a huge pool of blood.

And before being sucked into the crowd of people gathered outside the ghetto, he was able to catch the conversation of the two soldiers, who had escorted out, him and his brother.

"Were you able to find some precious jewel in the house?"

"Nein, there was nothing, only things of little value… But look what I found! A beautiful violin that I think some money!"

**Note: I would like to begin by thanking anyone who has read the first chapter. **

**Then I would move on to some details: First of all I will try to make it less crude scenes, whether of sex or violence (not intended as rape)**

**Who will read this story, you will not find any romantic situation. This is still the war and concentration camps. You have been warned. **

**But since I'm romantic, maybe a bit of love will come out, of course, to the extent lawful and possible. **

**Comments are welcome. Grazie.**

**Translations:**

***October 16, 1943, Rome.**

**Order for all the Jews of the ghetto in Rome:**

**You must be prepared in 20 minutes, bringing food for 8 days, money and valuables, away even the sick, In the field where you will bring, there is an infirmary.**

****The prayer of Feliciano:**

**Our Father who art in heaven,**

**Always be hallowed be your name,**

**Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, as in heaven, so on earth.**

**Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgive our debtors and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.**

***** where you are, you who are cursed Jews! If you are from not, I swear, I'll burn the whole house! come here, now!**

******The German nursery rhyme:**

**What are you thinking, kitten? "**

**" A mouse!"**

**"You maybe want to play?"**

**"I just want to eat!"**

**"Why? What did he do?"**

**"Nothing. But I am the Cat**

**and the cat, you know,**

**great friend of the mice was never!"**

**The saddest thing is that during the deportation of Jews from their homes, the German soldiers stole the valuables they could find and sold them or if held. after all also happened in the concentration camps, when ordering the Jews to take their clothes off, the soldiers gave instructions prisoners to search for valuables in their clothes.**

**The ghetto I mentioned is what is in Port Octavia, in front of the Tiber River, where on October 16 he began walking quiet of the innocent.**


	2. The Black Man

Chapter two: The Black Man.

Panic and fear. These feelings had accompanied Feliciano all the way from his home to Tiburtina station where the Germans soldiers had forced him and forty other people- including women, children and elders- into a small, dark wagon with shoving and threats. They were crammed into the small wagon like beasts without food, water or a place to sit. Feliciano never lost his brother Romano in spite of the crowds. Since they had been chased away from their apartment, he had clung to his brother's hand and hadn't let it go. He held on to the hand with the same desperation as man who clings to a rock when the sea is rough. Under no circumstances would he let go of that hand. Right now, the important thing for him was to stay with his brother.

Pressed against Romano, Feliciano peered through the darkness to stare at his brother's face where he sought the safety that he had lost. He didn't even dare to close his eyes for fear of losing his brother. All around him heard groans and prayers full of anguish and the weeping of women and children. He could smell the acrid and suffocating stink of urine and feces and almost vomited because of the stench. The train that had departed hours ago jerked at each sudden movement Feliciano's head beat against the wall of the small car. Behind him was a man who was pressed against his back. Every so often he would heard him emit low and muffled gasps, coughing and moaning, and calling for water or calling the name of a person. Desperate, Feliciano clung to Romano and remembered how he and his brother had met what would surely be their end.

He and Romano were Jews. Their father had been a Jew, but many years ago he had fallen in love with a Christian girl, their mother, and was disowned by his family. He had been baptized and married according to the Christian rite, but for all other purposes he was still a Jew. Romano was born first and then, three years later, Feliciano joined the family. Before the racial laws were passed in Italy, he and Romano studied while their mother worked as a maid and their father taught at the University of Rome. Then, in 1938, he and Roman were forced to leave school, their mother was fired-without even being paid- and their father was driven out by the University, because he was a Jew. They were "paying" for their father's faults. Their mother was accused of "Crimes against race"-the worst indictment for an Italian- for marrying a Jew and was judged by Fascist officials. They were all considered Jews simply because they had a relative, their father, of Jewish origin. It didn't matter that he had been baptized and that they were Christian.

"A Jew will always remain a Jew, even if he changes his parish and faith," was the answer the Fascist official gave their mother when she went to their school to protest. Since then, he and his family had gone to live in their grandfather's home. He had reconciled with his son and had accepted the fact that his grandchildren were baptized. They stayed with him until Mussolini outlawed it. Then, they went to live in a small apartment in the Jewish ghetto near Trastevere. They stayed there with all the other Jews that had been sent there because of Mussolini's orders. The conditions in the ghetto were very poor; a simple cold could kill without adequate health care. The Black Shirts, the members of the reactionary-fascist group, prevented them from leaving the ghetto to get medicines or to call a doctor. His mother died because of a fever during the first winter in the ghetto. Their father died a few days later. So, he and Romano were left with their grandfather who took care of them from that day forward. But now he was dead and they didn't have anyone else.

Feliciano's eyes filled with tears and his nose began to run as he sobbed with fear. "I'm afraid, Romano," he said as he buried his face in his brother's chest, wetting his shirt with his tears. "What will happen to us? What are you going to do?"

Romano raised his hand with great difficulty because of the small space. He began to stroke his younger brother's hair. "Think of something nice, Feliciano," he suggested as he continued to stroke his hair. "Think of your favorite place."

Feliciano did as his brother told him; he began to let his mind wander. He pictured a Saturday afternoon in Villa Borghese and a green lawn dotted with daisies.

He and Romano are playing soccer with their smiling father. He was crying for them to pass the ball, waving his arms in the air to attract their attention. Their mother was dressed all in white and sat on a red table cloth. She was smiling and blowing kisses as a light breeze moved through her long, brown hair.

He didn't remember when the memory was made, but it was still alive in his mind. It gave him the strength to not give into his fear.

The rest of the trip was a blur, especially odors and noises; the people weeping and praying, the gravel under the wheels of the train, the desperate cry of a child, the smell of vomit and then the voices that became screaming out that the train that was stopping. The man who had been behind him had stopped complaining or breathing hours ago…

The light from the soldiers' torches blinded Feliciano as they threw the doors open. He blinked and tried to get his eyes accustomed to the bright light. The soldiers began pushing the prisoners out of the freight train, screaming at the people as they exited. When someone fell because of exhaustion the soldiers kicked them and forced them back to their feet. The sick and old people were pile in a corner of the train like a horrible human pyramid. Feliciano and Romano were the last to get off the train. When Feliciano exited the train, a soldier gave him a blow to the stomach with the handle of a gun making him gasp in pain as he tried to regain his breath.

As he crouched on the ground, he heard Romano scream at the soldier. "You nasty, filthy bastard!" Feliciano saw Romano's feet move towards the soldier. Feliciano knew what his brother intended to do, and he reached out with the little strength he had left and grabbed his brother's pants.

"Brother, no ..." he croaked as he tried to catch his breath. "Stop ... Don't do anything stupid!"

Romano's face contorted in an angry and pained grimace as he looked down at his brother. Feliciano saw the anger and fear in Romano's emerald eyes and stopped his brother with a nod of his head.

Meanwhile, the German soldier Romano had tried to attack screamed at Feliciano to get up. "Get up damn dog! Get up or I'll kill you!"

In spite of his pain, he stood up as Romano was dragged away a couple of soldiers. Feliciano dragged himself into the crowd.

They prisoners walked few meters before they arrived at their destination. Feliciano would never forget the words carved into the wrought iron gate that stood like a horrible welcome banner;

"Arbeit Macht Frei"

As he crossed between the wooden gates, Feliciano stared dazedly at the word written above him. The gates were now worn and rotten and were surrounded by wire mesh and barbed wire. Those who entered knew that they would probably never leave it alive.

Feliciano and the other inmates crossed a field and arrived at a huge white tent. It was the control unit for the SS doctors. The doctors were inside doing medical examinations on the inmates who had just arrived.

A tall blonde man in a white coat began to pepper Feliciano with questions when it was his turn. Another man, probably another inmate, translated the questions for him.

"Have you ever had a fever? Have you had the necessary vaccinations," the man translated as the doctor spoke. His voice was calm and gentle and immediately relaxed the still terrified Italian who was tired from the long journey. Finally, he thought, someone was looking out for him.

Relaxed and relieved, the Italian answered each of the German physician's questions. At the end of the exam, Feliciano began to think that all the things that had been said about the concentration camps and the things that were happening there were lies.

It was now dawn, and he went to another building that served as a bathroom. He and the other men began to undress in front of some soldiers. Feliciano tried to ignoring the glances and mischievous grins that the soldiers shot in his direction. He gave his clothes, folded and sorted, and his black leather shoes to the soldier in charge.

Then, he and the other prisoners walked down a long corridor and went into a wide white room that smelled like disinfectant masking filth. Inside the room, there were several men holding rags soaked in a strange liquid who were shaving the inmates' bodies. Feeling apprehensive, Feliciano looked down and saw that the floor was full of hair. The other inmates' heads were being shaved. When it was his turn, a soldier came up behind him and pushed him into a battered old leather chair. When he sat down, another man approached him carrying a bucket of copper colored slime. He spread the slime on Feliciano after dipping the rag into the bucket, and rubbed the slime all over Feliciano's body. He let out a yelp of surprise and instinctively tried to get away from the wet rag. The rag was soaked in the cold, smelly, slimy liquid. The man behind him gave a snort and pushed him back into the chair with a threat hissed in German. The man held Feliciano's hands behind him as another grabbed a razor and began to pass it over Feliciano's whole body. The man was so rough that Feliciano received a few small cuts on his belly and between his thighs.

Feliciano felt his heart enter his throat as he saw strands of his hair fall to the floor and mingle with others. The man forced him to his feet with a jerk. As he walked away, Feliciano instinctively ran a hand over his head. It felt rough and warm. His hair was very short now.

A soldier walked him briskly to another room. As the soldier shoved Feliciano, he felt the leather gloves that the soldier wore rub against his bare skin and stop several times on his bare back and on his buttocks. It was almost as if the soldier was stroking him.

He stiffened and hurried to escape from the attentions of the lusty soldier. He stumbled and bumped into a wall as he came into the shower room. Dazed, he looked around and noticed that there was nothing to indicate that it was a shower room. Behind him there was only a white tile wall. The tiles were almost gray and had been worn by time. The floor was wet. Feliciano didn't have much time to contemplate his situation before he was hit by a jet of cold water. His exclamation of surprise was covered by the jeers of the soldiers holding a long gray pipe. Feliciano gasped as he was battered by the jet of water. He stepped back to the cool, smooth wall as he let out another surprised and annoyed yelp.

When the soldiers had finished hosing him down, Feliciano moved away from the wall coughing and spitting water. He was shaking like a leaf and his teeth chattered. He was rushed into another room where some soldiers distributed clothes that seemed like pajamas. Feliciano was so cold; he desperately wanted to cover up.

At first, he didn't notice the uniforms that the soldiers were handing out came complete with a hat and clogs. When he put on the coat, Feliciano almost fainted. The smell that emanated the jacket and the pants was disgusting and revolting. It was as if it they had never been washed. The cloth was dirty, rough and it pinched the skin. Feliciano left the room wearing the blue and white striped uniform. He felt almost relieved to smell a different odor. The smell seemed much better than the stench that emanated from the uniform. The relief was short-lived as the odor that had been carried by the cold wind that hit his face. It was a nauseating smell and sickly sweet. Feliciano held his hand to his mouth as he tried not to vomit. The smell that permeated the air and soaked his uniform was the smell of death and despair. He almost died himself because of the smell soaked into that field.

The ever-present soldiers followed Feliciano as he waited anxiously for the soldier behind the table to ask him questions. He hoped that this soldier would be as gentle as the doctor.

When it was his turn, a soldier who held a register and a pen began shower him of questions.

"Wie ist Ihr Name,"* asked the soldier. Another prisoner translated the question.

"Feliciano Vargas," he replied, shaking like a leaf. He was scared and didn't know where his brother, Romano, was.

"Wo wurdest du geboren?"**

"Rome." He couldn't defend himself against the fear and anxiety that was devouring him.

"Wie nennst du deinen Bruder? Dein Vater und dein Großvater?"***

By now, Feliciano was close to tears. He cleared his throat and replied, "Romano Vargas. My father died six years ago and my grandfather ..." He cleared his throat again and blinked to keep from crying. "... My grandfather died two days ago ..."

"Wie alt bist du?"****

"Nineteen," he said in a low voice, almost whispering. He saw the soldier grin as he wrote his age in the register.

Then the soldier snorted and held his hand out to Feliciano, motioning for him to come closer. Feliciano didn't understand what the soldier wanted. Then, the prisoner who had been translating the soldier's questions spoke up. "Stretch your left arm," he said flatly.

Feliciano looked up with confused and fearful eyes as he held his left arm out to the soldier. When his arm was extended, the soldier grabbed his arm with an iron grip and pressed a metal stamp firmly into the skin of his arm. Feliciano felt thousands of tiny needles penetrate his skin and sink into his flesh. He bit his lip very hard and held in his sobs.

When it was over, the soldier ordered him to leave. He walked away with tears in his eyes, clutching the arm that the soldier had gripped; his skin felt burned and pinched. He stared at his arm and saw a black stain on the skin; a series of numbers was written in black ink. Z 57900. What did it mean?

He rubbed the stain with his other hand, but the numbers would not go away. He moaned with fear and pain as he rubbed the numbers harder with the palm of his hand. He made his arm very red, but the numbers did not disappear. They remained there, branded into his skin.

A sick old man had witnessed the scene and approached him.

"You've been marked, boy," he said in slow, halting Italian.

Feliciano turned to the old man with a questioning look. He was wearing the same uniform that Feliciano was wearing; something that seemed like striped pajamas and smelled awful.

"That's your new name, son. It is how those bastards mark us; they mark us like animals. We are all the same and are only used to torture or kill." The man coughed loudly as he spoke and spit something that looked like phlegm on the ground. "We are dying here. To them, we are not people; we are animals ... animals for slaughter"

Feliciano felt his heart in his throat as he looked at the old man. He wondered if what the old man had said was the truth. He looked down at his arm again and passing a trembling finger over the series of numbers. They felt raised and rough under his fingertips. "My name is Feliciano, not Z57900," he whispered to himself, his anger and sadness making his voice shake. The old man was about to reply, but two soldiers appeared, grabbed the elderly man, and dragged him away. They pulled him toward a low, wide building with barred windows and a door with a wire metal grating. The building was sitting on top of a huge fireplace.

"Never forget who you are, son!" the man shouted as he was dragged by soldiers. The old man began screaming like an animal as they threw him into the building over the huge fire. "I forgot who I am, but you do not!"

Terrified, Feliciano watched as more people were shoved into the building along with old man. A soldier slammed the door closed and latched it closed. Then, there was nothing.

A soldier with a dog on a leash blew a whistle as all the boys and men in the camp settled into horizontal rows. All of them were shaking and moaning with fear. Feliciano looked for Romano, but hadn't found him yet. He fell into line with a feeling of anguish and apprehension.

Once they had all settled in, the soldier who was followed by three other soldiers also holding the leashes of snarling German shepherds began to speak. Yet another prisoner was translating for them.

"You have been chosen for forced labor. You'll have to work where and when we say! Anyone who complains and does not work will be brought to take a shower," shouted the soldier, grinning at the last word. The prisoners looked at each other with confusion. "What's wrong with a shower?" they murmured. The soldier spat on the ground and repeated the same sentence again, this time with more emphasis and malice. "A shower from which there is no return," he added and looked at the prisoners. They seemed to have understood the threat.

"You must not look the soldiers in the eyes!"

Feliciano looked down along with the others as they obeyed the command.

"You must never look up from the ground! Never! "

As he looked down at the mud, Feliciano realized that he wasn't wearing shoes. His feet looked like narrow, muddy shod hooves. In all the confusion, he had not noticed what had happened to his shoes. It was almost as if nothing before this moment had existed. Where had his brown leather shoes gone? They had been given to him by his best friend, Marco. And where was he? Why he had not seen him? Where were Romano, Pietro, Marco and Alice?

"You're watching me, bastard," he heard a soldier yell angrily. The sudden yell awakened him from his thoughts.

"I-I'm not looking ... I can't see well," said a voice trembling and melodic voice. From the sound of the voice, Feliciano knew that it had to be a boy speaking.

"What are you doing here, blind man? Why were you not sent to the gas chamber with the others," the soldier in charge barked and stared angrily in the direction of the two German soldiers. They shifted uncomfortably.

"We did not make the mistake! It's not our fault!"

Feliciano raised his eyes slightly; he saw the soldier take a gun from his waistband and point it at the boy's face. "Then I will eliminate the mistake."

He heard a shot and a heavy thud.

"Take this mangy dog and make sure that a mistake like this doesn't happen again," the first soldier ordered the other two who had watched the scene with amused smiles. Feliciano trembled and began to whisper prayers as he tried to hold back his tears.

"In line soldiers! Here comes the Captain," another soldier screamed as approached the other soldiers. "The Herr Kommandant is coming."

"Heil Hitler!" the four soldiers cried as they clicked their heels together in the mud and raised their right arms as a man dressed all in black approached them.

Feliciano felt excited murmurs rise from the men close to him, but they were immediately silenced by the soldiers present. What would happen now?

Despite the soft mud and slime, Feliciano clearly heard the sound of the man's boot heels. He saw a big, black shadow stop in front of his feet.

"You, raise your eyes and look at me," a voice boomed in front of him. It spoke in a forced Italian accent.

Feliciano's heart stopped for a second. He shook his head and continued to stare at the ground. He remembered what had happened to the boy just a few minutes earlier.

"I ordered you to look at me, Jew," said the voice. This time, it spoke with more anger and vehemence. The sound brought Feliciano's heart to his throat. 'He just wants to have fun before he kills me,' he thought, terrified. He kept his gaze focused on his feet.

The four soldiers looked at each other in confused and anger. One soldier approached him and threatened him. "Did you hear what our Commander just ordered you to do, beggar Jew? Look up or I'll kill you."

Feliciano did not reply in spite of the voice inside him that was screaming for him to look up and put an end to his life as quickly as possible. He remained motionless.

"Well, we have a disobedient dog," the voice in front of him chuckled. "But I know how to get the dogs disobedient as him to obey me... I will kill his fellow."

Terrified, Feliciano lifted his eyes to the belt of the soldier in front of him and watched pull a black pistol from his belt and lift it. He opened his eyes a little wider and saw the gun move slightly away from him and point at the boy next to him.

The boy's eyes were filled with panic, and his arms were stiff at his sides. Suddenly, a dark spot appeared on the front of his pants.

Commander scoffed and spoke to Feliciano, "You Jews suck. You really are sub-human: ridiculous, sick and unclean. Do you know how I eliminate the dogs bums like you? I send them to the gas chambers. Or ..." The man pressed on the trigger as he spoke, "... a bullet in the brain. Quick, easy. This way, we don't waste money to buy poison. "

The boy burst into tears.

Feliciano clenched his hands in fists and tried not to collapse. It seemed as though the world around him was becoming smaller and smaller. It was as if the universe was imploding.

"Let me tell you what I'm going to do," the captain pressed the gun against the shaking boy's head, "... if in five seconds, the beggar near you does not look up from the ground as I ordered him to do, I will kill you. Now start counting: Ein ... "

Was the life of the boy next to him worth more than his? Who was that boy to him? He was not his brother Romano, he wasn't his best friend Pietro, nor was he the girl that Feliciano loved, Alice. If the boy died in his place, what harm would that do? But this boy had a family too; maybe he had a big brother that was also lost. Now he was alone, and he needed someone to protect and save him.

Feliciano believed in the afterlife and Heaven. He didn't intend to appear before God with the guilt of letting another die to save his own life.

He closed his eyes and was as if something exploded behind his lids. Nobody would be saved now and it would be better to die now than to wait for death alone in that horrible field. He wanted to go to his grandfather.

"... Drei… Vier ..."

The thoughts split his thoughts in two. He couldn't find a solution. Should he die or let another die for him? It a difficult choice, but he forced himself to decide.

Slowly he looked up and said, "Here I am."

The boy next to him cried with relief as the Commander took the gun away from his forehead.

Feliciano's heart seemed to stop beating as his eyes met the Commander's. The eyes of the German in front of him had nothing human or alive within them. But that wasn't the most upsetting thing. The thing that upset Feliciano the most was the German's face. He had square, angular features with high, pronounced cheekbones. His blue eyes made him look like a fairytale prince. But he was not. The black uniform accompanied the ruthless, menacing, grim expression that indicated how dangerous and cruel the man truly was. Looking at him, Feliciano was reminded of the monster that haunted fairytales and nightmares alike; his grandfather had called this monster "The Black Man".

"The Black Man is an evil being that steals your dreams and ravishes your soul. The only way to protect yourself is to pray, but your best defense is to avoid his eyes. You must never look into his eyes. If you look in his eyes he will steal you away, and you will never return." The stories his grandfather told him scared him so badly he would be tempted to stay up the rest of the night to avoid the Black Man. But here he was looking into the eyes a man who seemed to be the incarnation of the Black Man. He began to think that the stories his grandfather told were not inventions keep him in bed at night.

The German kept his eyes fixed on Feliciano for a painfully long time. Feliciano was almost afraid enough to lower his eyes. He clenched his fists till his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his flesh.

Finally, the Commandant turned and began walking way without saying a word. After the man had walked away, the silence that had fallen on the line was interrupted by the sound of gunfire and the thud of bodies falling in the mud.

It was almost evening when the men had finished working in the small, dark cave they had been assigned to. As Feliciano exited, a guard grabbed his arm and pulled him away silently.

As he walked, he felt his legs suddenly become jelly and his bones began to ached from carrying too much weight. The guard took him to a huge, very tall building. The building didn't seem too different from the others that surrounded the camp. Two small lanterns illuminated the front of the wooden door.

As he was led through a long corridor, Feliciano looked around and saw soldiers and guards everywhere. They were all dressed in black; some leaned against the walls of the corridor and stared at him in silence as their eyes dripped with contempt and disgust.

'What will happen to me now?' thought terrorized the Italian. With tears in his eyes, he thought of his brother, Marco and Alice. His only regret was not having asked Alice to marry him. How he wanted to marry and have children with her. Life would have been as good as the bread and pastries, their children would have been angels, just like her. As his breath became low and rhythmic, he thought that he might finally be reunited with his grandfather, mother and father ... How he had missed them!

In the meantime, the soldier had stopped and knocked on the black door in front of them. A hoarse and strong voice answered from inside. The soldier opened the door and grabbed Feliciano's arm, dragging him into the large, bright room.

"Häftling Z57900," said the soldier clicking his heels, leaving the puzzled Italian to ponder what the word the soldier had called him meant.

"Thank you. You may go, "replied a voice. Feliciano instinctively looked up to see who had talked. He stopped breathing as his body began to tremble. There, behind a huge black desk was a man with short blond hair that was held back with gel. His blue eyes were lifeless. It was the soldier who had forced him to look up.

The soldier who had accompanied him left the room after raising his right arm and exclaiming "Heil Hitler!" He closed the door and left Feliciano alone with the other soldier.

"Lift up your eyes and look at me," said a low, menacing German voice. After a couple of minutes, the Italian did it. For the second time, he felt a chill creep along his back. The German's looks gave him the willies.

The captain surveyed the Italian as his chin rested on his hands. He tried to keep his eyes emotionless, but the Italian noticed the curiosity that had appeared in his eyes.

The man got up from behind the desk and walked forward, always keeping his eyes fixed on Feliciano. He was terrified and instinctively stepped back. As he did, he saw the ends of the German's lips curling into a sneer.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked. The tone of his voice seemed amused and even pleased with Feliciano's reaction. He tried to force himself to calm down and keep his eyes away from the icy eyes of the German. It was not the first time he had been afraid, but none of his past experiences could compare to what he felt at that moment. His stomach was twisting and his hands began to sweat as his breathing became heavy and slow.

"I am the Kommander, Ludwig Beilschmidt," the soldier spoke, his eyes boring into Feliciano's. The German spoke again, his next words ringing with conviction. "And you will be my lover."

Feliciano's heart stopped and then began to beat faster. He could not believe what he had just heard. Inside, he hoped it was a joke. But the way it had been said seemed serious and authoritative. It allowed no arguments. Feliciano swallowed the lump that had stopped in his throat and opened his lips, trying to say something. All that came out was an inarticulate sound. He moistened his lips with his tongue, tried again and mumbled "What?"

Unperturbed, the German came very close to his face and repeated, "You will become my lover."

Was he kidding? Feliciano looked at the blonde with shocked and stunned eyes. He searched the other man's face for a sign that he was kidding. From what he could see in the man's face, he was serious. He had the look of someone who was used to getting everything he wanted without having to ask. Feliciano had rarely seen an expression like that in Rome; that look could be found only in the faces of the fascists.

As the German moved away from him, Feliciano found he could breathe again. The soldier moved back to his desk and sat in his leather chair.

"What's your name?" he asked, a strange expression passing across his face.

Feliciano's lips trembled as he tried to form words. He whispered, "Feliciano Vargas."

"Vargas," repeated the blonde, his heavy accent ruining the melody of his name. He took out a pad of paper and started leafing through it. Finally, he looked up and said, "Vargas! But of course. Do you have a brother named Romano Vargas? "

Feliciano tried to hide his emotions but his eyes betrayed him. The Aryan smiled triumphantly and exclaimed, "You two look very alike. I received a report this morning that your brother had beaten two of my soldiers." His gaze was like two sharp knives that pierced the amber eyes of the Italian. He hissed ruthlessly, "He is on my list of those who will die."

Feliciano's eyes widened as his breathing sped up. It felt like the floor had disappeared from under his feet and the room began to spin around him. It left him feeling lost and confused. He could lose his brother. He made an inventory of people who had died: his mother and father had died six years ago, his grandfather two days ago ... And now he might lose his brother. He felt something wet wash over his cheeks and his nose began trickling. He rubbed the sleeve of his uniform over his face. He could feel the German staring at him.

Feliciano couldn't believe that there was a person who could feel excitement when seeing tears existed. But Commander Ludwig Beilschmdit was watching him as though the tears and pain that contorted Feliciano's face had enchanted him.

Feliciano watched him get up from his chair and move towards him, as if he was drawn to the scene in front of him. He bent down and raised a black- gloved hand to catch a tear on the tip of his finger.

Feliciano was shocked to feel the German's hand brush against his face and stop under his chin, forcing him to lift his head. The man's height took his breath away. He had never seen anyone as tall as the German. He watched the man closely as he stooped to Feliciano's level.

"Be my lover and I will spare your brother's life," said the German as he stared into Feliciano's eyes. He touched his lips to Feliciano's mouth which was slightly open and wet with tears. "If you want to save your brother, you must become my lover," the German hissed menacingly.

The scared Italian scooted back and instinctively put his hand to his mouth. The kiss of his beloved Alice was gone. He touched his lips with the tip of his tongue, tasting the lips Aryan had touched with his. He knew that his beloved's honey sweet kisses were gone, replaced by a slightly bitter and pungent taste. His first kiss had been taken by the damn demon dressed in black.

"You care so little for your brother's life, Jew?" asked the amused German, grinning as he passed his tongue over lips sensually. Feliciano's eyes widened and he felt repentant. He had the opportunity to save his brother and he was thinking only of himself.

He shook his head. He was sure that neither his brother nor God would have approved of his way of salvation, but it was the only one he had. "Forgive me Romano. God forgive me. Mom, Dad, Grandfather, forgive me." He readied himself to let the demon do as he desired.

With a satisfied grin, the German looked from his head to his feet and ordered him to strip.

Feliciano took off his coat with trembling hands. It fell at his feet with a thud soft. He dropped his pants, now naked. He felt the eager glance of the excited German wandering over his body. He shuddered, feeling disgusted and embarrassed for himself and the man in front of him, if that made sense. The man's gloved hands traveled down to his bare buttocks, touching and squeezing hard. Feliciano let out a groan of despair and pain as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"I want you to look at me," said the commander, his voice making Feliciano shiver. His voice seemed dark and low, like an animal's growl. He couldn't and didn't want to watch what was happening to him.

The German pulled away slightly, his hands leaving his buttocks and taking his face in his hands. The man held it tightly forced Feliciano to look him directly in his ice-blue eyes. "When I give an order, you must obey me. Now open your eyes and look at me."

The tight fingers wrapped around his face were painful. He forced himself to open his eyes which were dimmed with tears. He mumbled a pathetic prayer, "Don't hurt me."

He saw the eyes of the German open a little wider as though he was stunned by the request. Or perhaps he was shocked that Feliciano had spoken to him. But he did not answer and didn't let him go as he kissed him, his lips warm. He slipped his tongue inside Feliciano's mouth and held him in place when he tried to move away. He bent over him, increasing the pressure and continuing to kiss him as if he was savoring his tongue and lips.

The feeling of the German's lips made Feliciano shudder with disgust. He wide-eyed with horror and his arms were inert by his sides, leaving the German free to do whatever he wanted with him.

The man's hands quickly made their way back to his buttocks and grabbed him roughly, without kindness. Feliciano stifled a groan against his mouth. When he broke away, his eyes were hazy and full of lust as he pounced eagerly on Feliciano's neck, licking and biting his flesh, sucking hard. That action caused Feliciano to let out a sort of strangled groan as his vision became blurred with tears. He hoped that God and his parents were not watching him now.

With a hand still clutching Feliciano's buttock, the German's other hand moved behind his neck, locking it in place. When he raised his face from Feliciano's neck, he kissed him with insistence and ferocity. Feliciano felt the German's hot breath invading his mouth as his lips moved over his. Feliciano blinked and stifled a pained groan as the man bit his lower lip, sucking and licking the piece of flesh like a hungry wolf. Suddenly, Feliciano realized that his breathing had become slow and heavy, and that his body reacted in a strange way under the rude touch the German's hands, his body arching and shuddering. Instinctively, his lips began to move with the commander's as he adapted to his pace and pressure. He didn't understand anything anymore. He was concentrating on the kiss when he suddenly opened his eyes and yelped with pain and surprise. The German had inserted a finger inside him and was now was moving quickly in and out of him. Feliciano tightened his legs, stiffened, and desperately tried to grab his hair. But the commander seemed to guess his intentions and turned away quickly, abruptly and forced him to his knees with a shove.

"Geh auf deine Knie, Jude!" exclaimed the man, seemingly at the height of his excitement, a strange look in his eyes.

Feliciano fell to his knees, frightened. He looked up at the tall German just in time to see him quickly undoing his belt and pulling his black suspenders and zipper down with an impatient gesture.

Feliciano instinctively covered his eyes with his hands as felt his face begin to burn. He could not! He could not do it!

A slight thud made him realize that the German's pants had dropped completely.

"You have seen a naked man before. Don't play innocent," teased the German, giggling at Feliciano's reactions. "This is not the first time, surely."

"But never a stranger," Feliciano wanted to answer, but a groan of embarrassment was the only thing that came from his lips. He had wanted to see Alice naked. She was the only person he had ever dreamed of seeing naked. Certainly not a German, commander of the concentration camp where he was a prisoner. He tried to calm down and pretend that nothing was happening, that it was just a nightmare. He tried to imagine Alice before him, instead of the German.

"You bored me, Jew! Open your eyes and look at me," the blonde man threatened, adding evily, "I can always change my mind and kill your brother."

Slowly, he lowered his hands and he forced himself to look at the man in front of him. His eyes moved up the perfectly white athletic legs, the muscular calves, slender hips and toward the erection. He looked up at the German with a frightened, questioning expression.

The German reached down and grabbed him firmly under his chin, forcing him to open his mouth. He hissed coldly, "Suck."

Without giving Feliciano time to protest, he slammed his mouth against his erection. "If you do not, I kill your brother," he threatened him. The man punched his cheek and hissed, "Do you understand me?" Feliciano nodded quickly, pained tears filling his eyes. He looked the German in the eyes as he slid the erection into his mouth. The tip was soft and smooth. He slowly took as much as he could. He felt the German's hands in his hair, tell him how to move. Feliciano followed the pressure on his head began to move up and down, uttering stifled groans whenever the German pushed deeper, forcing him to take more of the erection into his mouth.

"Gott," he heard him sigh, almost growling. The German's breathing had become rapid. His blue eyes contained a sort of dim light, something primitive, something indescribable. Feliciano kept moving his head as the German's breathing became fast and heavy. He tried to isolate his consciousness, like he did when he was little and he was afraid. He tried to ignore what he was doing, but he could not. The animalistic and guttural moans brought him back to reality. The German's hips moved furiously back and forth, increasing the pace. He was nearing orgasm and almost choked Italian with his erection. Finally, Feliciano saw his eyes snap shut as he gnashed his teeth and let out an animal cry. He was satisfied. He didn't come in Feliciano's mouth. He pushed him away for no reason. It was as if he felt ashamed letting anyone see his seed.

Feliciano was still dazed and stunned by what had just happened. He stared at the muscular legs and saw the pants and underpants being pulled up. The German kept his back to Feliciano. He could not help but think of how ridiculous and silly the German appeared. He was ashamed to dress in front of him after he had forced him to do those horrible and perverse things? The demon was ashamed? But for whom? For Feliciano? Or for himself?

Once he buckled his belt, the German turned back to face him and cleared his throat, saying, "Get dressed and goes to sleep. A soldier will accompany you to your cabin." The man would not even look him in the eyes. He sat behind his desk as if nothing had happened as he quickly wrote something on a sheet of paper and then stamped and signed it.

Feliciano hated him, hated him and hated himself. He too looked away. He could not look at the man in front of him without feeling shame and hatred for himself. Though he tried to convince himself that he had done to save his brother, it didn't alter the fact that what he had done condemned him to hell. He had touched and kissed another man, a person of the same sex.

His hands trembled with rage as he dressed quickly his back to the German. He had just put his pants on when a soldier came into the room. The man respectfully saluted the captain and turned to give Feliciano a disgusted look.

Before he could leave the room, he heard the German threaten, "If you dare to tell anyone what we have done... I swear I'll take your brother and kill him. I will kill him in front of you and force you to watch. Got it?" Feliciano did not turn, but he could imagine the cruel, merciless look that surely graced the German's face.

When he got to the large, red brick cabin building, he ran his hands through his hair and rubbed the sleeve of the uniform over his face, rubbing vigorously and angrily against his mouth. He didn't want any signs of his meeting with the German to remain. Suddenly, he heard a horse, but familiar voice.

"Feliciano. It's me, Romano."

Tears filled his eyes as he turned and spotted his brother. Romano was dressed like him, but had two black eyes. The brothers approached each other with open arms. Choking back a sob, Feliciano dived into his brother's arms, seeking comfort and warmth. They lay on the damp and smelly straw that served as a bed and hugged. Romano soon fell asleep, but Feliciano wept silently through the night. He could smell the German on his skin, marking him like the series of numbers marked his arm.

"The black man kidnapped me and now I am his," he whispered sadly as he looked at the face of his sleeping brother.

**Author's note: First of all, I apologize for the delay. But I found a beta, which has corrected the few errors in grammar that I had done!**

**thank you:**

**Hetaliarocksmysoxoff (My beta!)**

**Onarwhal (for having proposed as a beta! Thanks very much! Damn it the e-mail!)**

**Herze (Thanks for having correct the other review!)**

**Littlewolfwindspeaker **

**kara-hime24 (Thanks you too)**

**Elly194 (Thanks for your curiosity)**

**Thank for the fave and follow :**

**Lithuania12393 **

**Peteeter**

**SlifofinaDragon**

**Cursedbluemoon **

**EtherealKnight21**

**UltraMagnusFanGirl**

**Thanks very much! Baci da Roma!**

**Translate:**

***what's your name?**

****Where were you born?**

*****What do you call your brother, your father and your grandfather?**

******How old are you?**

**Häftling: prisoner.**

**History's note:**

**The selection was carried out by SS doctor, one or more doctors in turn operated the service of the ramp. It is important to note that at this stage the SS maintenance of a kind and condescending behavior in order to disguise their intentions and speed up the unloading and selection, instilling false confidence in the newly arrived prisoners, usually tired and confused by the long journey.**

**The prisoners declared fit for work were conducted in bathhouses, where they were, first, to deliver linen and clothes, as well as all the jewelry they were in possession, they were deprived also of identity documents possibly owned. Men and women could retain only a piece of cloth, the men were allowed to retain his belt. Subsequently, the prisoners were pushed into the room where they were handed over to the barbers who shaved them all over the body. The operation was conducted in a hasty, after damp areas subjected to shaving with a rag soaked in disinfectant. Next step was the shower, which was followed by the distribution of the clothing from the field: a jacket, a pair of trousers and a pair of clogs.**

**Field covered by clothing, the prisoners were then recorded: a card was compiled with personal data (Häftlings-Personal-Karte) and the address of the immediate family. The prisoners received, then a sequential number for the entire duration of the detention within the concentration camp, he would have replaced the name. The number was tattooed on his left arm of the prisoner, first through a special metal stamp, on which were fixed digit interchangeable needles made of a length of about 1 cm and then through the use of individual needles, used to perform bites on the forearm.**

**About Feliciano and Romano: To be Jew, it was enough to have even one parent who was.**

** example: you have a grandma or mom or dad, who is Jew? Then you were " half Jew", but still a Jew.**

**You have the two grandparents, on the maternal side, or the father's side, who are Jews? So, you were a "Pure Jew".**

**Saluti da nena92**


	3. At the Kommandant's pleasure

**Sorry for the delay. I'm was very busy.**

**Warnings: scenes of violence, death and sex. And use of strong language.**

The long whistle and siren split the air and forced Feliciano to open his eyes.

The creaking springs, wet straw and foul-smelling stench that filled the room abruptly brought him back to reality. He had not had a bad nightmare; he was really in a concentration camp.

Blinking repeatedly, he looked around and saw people that looked like skeletons wearing leather as he got up from the straw, coughing and shivering from the cold. He put his hand in front of his nose when a short and skeletal man passed him issuing a terrible rotten and dirty stench.

Romano, meanwhile, moved to a sitting position and he looked around with a confused expression; evidently he had hoped it was a bad nightmare as well. They saw other men, most nude or wearing only underpants, head of the worn and damaged cabinets to take and wear the uniform.

Suddenly, the door opened and in came five armed soldiers dressed in green, heatedly shouting "Raus! Raus."

Feliciano and Romano, no questions asked, came out of the cabin with the others and headed to another building where they quickly washed their face and went out into the courtyard always under the eye of other soldiers.

After being forced to settle down in line, a soldier dressed in black began to shout at them.

With his eyelids fighting to fall down, Feliciano thought about what he had dreamed that night.

He had dreamed of his house, the one where he lived before he was transferred to the ghetto. He was in his room, sitting in the bed next to the window where he could always see the dome of the Vatican. Then a woman's soft voice began to sing and he had turned to his side to see Alice. The girl with braided mahogany hair lovingly cradled a small white bundle in her arms, which occasionally emitted small gurgling noise. He had approached the girl and she gently moved away the light cotton blanket that enveloped the bundle revealing the face of a chubby little baby.

"It's ours," She had whispered with a smile to his face now stunned with surprise.

"Ours," he had repeated after a moment's silence, feeling his lips stretch into a smile of happiness and emotion. "Ours," He then repeated, over and over again, savoring the word. Feeling his heart swell with happiness and joy every time he repeated the word. And then she began to sing the "ninna nanna":

" Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò ?

Se lo dò alla Befana,

Se lo tiene una settimana.

Se lo dò all'uomo nero…"

Suddenly the bedroom door burst open and in front of them appeared Kommandt Beilschmidt, who took him by the arm away from the girl, while Alice continued to calmly and quietly sing the last verse of the lullaby:

"Se lo tiene un anno intero.

Ninna nanna, ninna oh…"

And the German had finished the song "Questo bimbo me lo terrò!"

And then he added with a grin, "For more than a year."

"Z57900!"

The rough and tough German voice roused him from his thoughts just in time to figure out who was talking to him.

"Z57900," the German repeated letting his gaze wander over the men lined up in front of him. His lips twisting into a grimace of disgust the longer he was forced to watch them.

Feliciano heard the groans rise from people close to him and he felt something hard and sharp hitting his side. Romano gave him a nudge to warn him, but it was too late.

"Where Z57900! Where the fuck is he?" the soldier yelled visibly upset and stomping his boot in the mud.

"Feliciano, damn it! It's you! Answer!" Romano hissed nervously.

Feliciano kept his eyes down, as he was told, and was about to reply, however his voice was muffled by the German's screams that were rapidly approaching him.

"Are you Z57900?! Stupid Jew! You made me lose time! Now I'll make you pay!" the soldier yelled enraged, and took his right arm pulling him forward with strength.

"You dirty dog, when I call you, you are to answer!" he growled at him, twisting his arm and forcing him to drop to his knees.

Feliciano pursed his lips and closed his eyes trying not to cry while the German twisted his arm, almost as if he wanted to break it. And maybe that was his intention after all.

He began to feel his arm bones creak like dry twigs, and the pain increased making him open his mouth in a silent scream. The pain was so bad that he could not even scream. He heard the German's voice chuckle cruelly then ask: "So, what's your name?"

He gasped, his face streaked with tears and snot dripping from his nose. He could not answer. The pain was too much.

"What's your name, dirty Jew!"

He couldn't feel as his arm anymore and the pain was going to his head making him crazy. He had to answer otherwise the German would break his arm.

"Z57 ..." he began to say, gasping painfully and trying to concentrate.

"What? I did not hear you!" the soldier said amused, increasing the pressure.

"Z57900," He finally managed to say, but the soldier did not let go and instead mocked: "I did not hear you, say it a bit louder!"

Swallowing the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth, he managed to shout as loud as he could: "Z59700!"

The soldier continued to hassle him for another couple of minutes, then let go of his left arm and Feliciano fell groaning and panting into the mud, clutching his arm that now throbbed painfully.

"And next time do not forget your name ... Jew!" the soldier hissed menacingly and spit on him.

Feliciano was barely able to stand up and went back to his place still holding his arm. Seeing as the German was far away, he quickly glanced at his brother Romano and saw some big drops trickling down his chin while his fingers were smeared with blood. Romano had clenched his fists hard enough to stick his nails into his flesh, injuring the palms of his hands.

After the gathering, the prisoners were led into another part of the courtyard and then forced to stay in a row while a soldier gave orders and a prisoner translated.

Feliciano, still sore in his right arm, looked at the square in front of him. It was large but didn't have any grass. It seemed that in that yard no flower or tree had or will ever grow; it was just barren and desolate. While continuing to look around, the Italian noted that some parts of the courtyard were not completely leveled but were slightly raised with small mounds. He did not understand what they were until he was forced along with the prisoners to kneel and start digging with his hands.

At the first impact with the hard and dry ground, Feliciano felt his nails scream in pain. He was tempted to raise his hands but a menacing glare of one of the soldiers made him change his mind.

He dug the earth with his hands until a prisoner, who dressed in a differently than him, began to distribute what appeared to be spades.

Puzzled but also excited, the Italian looked at the spade with the intention of grabbing it and digging. But something told him not to.

Continuing to dig and slightly raising his eyes, he saw that the other prisoners had similar expressions as they threw quick glances at shovels close to them.

What should they do?

His hands ached and his nails had started to bleed. He glanced at the spade thinking that the tool would save a lot of effort and pain. But there was something that stopped him and he knew what it was when out of the corner of his eye he glanced at the soldiers behind him.

The soldiers looked at the prisoners with anxious and amused expressions while they touched the rifle resting on their side with the tips of their fingers.

It seemed that they couldn't wait for one of the prisoners to grab one of the shovels placed near them.

"Romano ..." the Italian whispered afraid, trying to get the attention of his brother digging a hole a few meters next to him.

"What the fuck do you want?" Romano replied nervously in a low voice. When he was afraid he tended to curse more often than he did when he was calm.

Feliciano waited a few minutes then hissed, "What shall we do with these shovels?"

A soldier stopped behind Roman who remained silent. Waiting for him to leave first, he replied, "I do not know, but ..." and he looked over his shoulder suspiciously before saying all in one breath "... but I think it is better not to take them. Those lousy bastards have something in mind, I'm sure it."

The Italian felt his heart stuck in his throat when he realized that even Romano had come to the same conclusions: the spades were perhaps a trap.

He continued to dig but always glanced at the spade. The cold had made the ground even harder and more difficult to dig, and because of the kneeling position which he had been forced into his back began to ache.

He glanced to the shovel more and more frequently as the pain began to rage inside of him. Still nothing had happened, and the soldiers had not killed anyone. Perhaps the expression he had seen in their faces a few minutes ago, or maybe hours, was their usual expression. Since he had arrived at the camp, he had not seen the soldiers with an expression different from what they had now.

'Perhaps the fact that they gave us spades even if we were ordered to dig with his hands, does not really mean anything. Perhaps the spade is not a trap…,' he reasoned silently without being able to take his eyes off the spade next to him.

Casting one last glance at the soldiers behind him, then at Romano,

Feliciano decided to take a spade.

The moment he stretched out his arm there was the sound of a gunshot.

He had been shot at.

Paralyzed by the horror and terror, Feliciano stood still and did not dare look at his body. If he did he would have seen a huge hole and a dark stain that rapidly expanded on his shirt.

He closed his eyes and waited for death to pick him up.

He had been a fool to disobey his older brother. Because of him, Romano would die. The only guarantee of rescue for his older brother had gone to hell because of _his_ momentary weakness.

He was dying, he was sure of it. But strangely enough, he did not feel the pain and the cold he'd always imagined dying would feel like.

"Weiter graben, schmutziger Jude!" a soldier called behind Feliciano.

The boy gasped in disbelief and touched his chest. There was no hole. He was not dead! He was alive! Alive!

The joy and relief of Italian of still being alive was ended by a kick in the kidneys by the soldier behind him.

With bated breath and a sore head, Feliciano crumpled to the ground and lay still for a few brief seconds. Then he got up and saw the body of an old man being dragged away by a soldier. In his small bony hand, the old man clutched the handle of a shovel.

When evening darkened the concentration camp, the soldiers finally ordered Feliciano and other prisoners to stop the digging.

The courtyard was so bright in some parts because of the headlights that looked like it was still daylight, while in other parts it was completely dark as if it had been covered by a thick layer of black tar.

Normally Feliciano would have preferred the light to the dark, because it was known that the dark areas were the favorite abode of monsters. But that night he learned that, unfortunately the monsters even dwell in the light and that it was in fact in the light where they performed their most heinous murders.

Without leaving the group, the Italian saw a group of soldiers in the distance from behind and across from them prisoners kneeling in the mud. At first he did not understand why those people were kneeling. Maybe they were tired and resting, but then he saw a soldier lift one arm up and the prisoners jump up and then fall on their knees.

Feliciano then realized that the soldiers were forcing the prisoners to jump like frogs.

He looked away and saw another group of prisoners lying on their belly with arms and legs flexed. He saw the bodies, made to look even more frail from the shadows created by the headlights, fall and get up painfully from the ground while the soldiers shouted. Parading close to them, Feliciano saw with horror a prisoner suddenly stop in mid-flexion and collapsing to the ground like a puppet with its wires cut.

He looked dead.

He saw two soldiers approach the prisoner and take him under his armpits to drag him in front of another soldier.

Petrified by fear, Feliciano could not move his eyes away and he saw that the prisoner was still alive when the soldier kicked him in the stomach making him gag and spit blood.

The boy closed his eyes, already knowing what would happen in a few minutes. Continuing to walk, he heard the sound of a gunshot and the laughter of the soldiers.

It was absolute hell and he would die sooner or later, when Commander Beilschmidt would grow tired of his 'company'.

Like beasts, Feliciano and the inmates were crammed inside their barracks.

Wearily the Italian was dropped onto the smelly mattress and ignored the pain that the gesture had brought him.

"I'm tired, I'm hungry...," he whispered lazily and closed his eyes, ready to curl up alongside his older brother, like a puppy looking for the warmth of the mother.

"Shut up," Romano chided softly while stroking Feliciano's head with one hand.

"Hm, I would like to eat a nice plate of pasta ..." he said unconsciously, thus making his stomach grumble loudly.

"Idiot, I told you not to talk about food ...," the older one hissed in frustration, however, attracting the attention of other inmates who seem to have awakened to that word.

"Does anyone have any food?" Someone asked in desperation only to be followed by other similar complaints and appeals.

"Shut up, you bunch of filthy beasts!" a voice harshly screamed from inside the cabin.

Recognizing the owner of the voice, the prisoners froze and became immediately silent. The one who had just shouted was the Kapo(1) of the block to which they were assigned Feliciano and Romano.

Feliciano had only been there for two days and did not know why he was Kapo, but he had heard some rumors that described him as a horrible person and it was better to stay away.

"You, come here," ordered the Kapo to one of the prisoners, who without protest rose from his bed and walked over to him, his expression fearful.

"Tonight the soldiers want to hear a little music, you know how to play?" the Kapo asked the prisoner with a strange look.

"Yes, I was a musician ... before," he replied in a small voice without taking his eyes from the floor.

The Kapo spat near the prisoner's foot and shrugged: "I do not care if you were a musician before or not, beggar. The important thing is that you know how to pick up a violin. "

The last words sounded like a threat to Feliciano and he felt apprehensive about the poor prisoner. The tough and mean look of the Kapo not bode well.

The two went out, and once they were far enough away, Feliciano got out of bed and walked over to one of the dirty windows of the cabin, curious to see what would happen.

"Feliciano, you asshole, come here!" his older brother hissed angrily but did not move from his bed. But the other Italian ignored him.

He wanted to see what was going to happen. Indeed, he wanted to hear a little music.

Holding HIS breath and putting on his toes, Feliciano glanced from one of the holes in the window and waited.

Some SS, whose black uniform almost mingled with the night, were seated on lined up wooden stools. He looked to see if any were other and his heart caught in his throat.

Among the SS there was also the Kommandant Beilschmidt. With his arms folded across his chest and his legs crossed, the commander kept his eyes fixed on the prisoner who had been brought out of the hut.

His eyes were so intense they stood out even though it was night. After all, however, it was known that demons had bright eyes like that of a cat's to better hunt their victims.

The Italian looked away from the commander and looked at the prisoner who was now holding the violin in his hand. He was almost afraid that the German knew that he was there, watching from inside the cabin, and he was waiting for the best time to kidnap him.

The kapo meanwhile had approached the SS and was talking to them with his back to the prisoner and Feliciano.

The soldiers spoke quietly and with strange smiles on their lips, and it seemed like this was going to be a party.

The kapo was nodding like a mule while they were talking and giggling every now and then, even though he felt a mile away that his was false and forced a laugh.

Then the Kapo stopped talking with the SS and approached the prisoner. He whispered something in his ear and the prisoner nodded.

Hypnotized, Feliciano looked at the prisoner start playing the violin.

Suddenly there was silence in the courtyard, interrupted only by barking of dogs, and the prisoners along with Feliciano listened to the music played.

It was a beautiful sonata but Feliciano had never heard it because it was German.

Awed the Italian looked at the prisoner move his bow across the strings releasing beautiful music. Feliciano knew then that he _had_ been a musician.

Personally Feliciano preferred to play the mandolin, which was a musical instrument native of Naples, but he had learned to play the violin at age ten, as a favor to his mother who preferred the harmonious sound of the latter to the tune of the mandolin.

At thirteen he already knew how to play the compositions of Verdi from the most simple pieces, such as 'Rigoletto', to the more difficult ones, such as the 'Don Carlos', thanks to the teachings of his grandfather who had cultivated a love for the violin. Every night he had performed for his parents and had continued to do so even after they were dead to cheer up his grandfather. His thoughts stopped on his grandfather and he felt tears emerge from his eyes.

His grandfather's name was Romeo and he was one of the best, most honorable and good men Feliciano had ever known. Every day he had a smile on his lips and kept it despite the fact that the daily life in the ghetto had become intolerable. He continued to smile even after the arrival of the Germans. The last thing Feliciano remembered of him, before the doors were closed, was his smile.

"Grandpa ..." the boy whispered melancholically, wishing now more than ever to feel his big strong hands patting his back or ruffling his hair to comfort him.

He had hardly leaned his forehead against the window, determined to enjoy the music and free his mind from sad thoughts, when suddenly the music stopped.

Light murmurs began to rise inside the cabin and Feliciano's eyes widened when he heard the inhumane screams coming from outside.

Involuntarily he saw what was going on.

At the prompting of the SS, the Kapo had grabbed an iron pipe and began to attack the poor prisoner.

He saw the tube rise and come down several times violently onto the body of the prisoner, who had picked up on itself like a hedgehog. In the weak glow of the headlights, he saw the iron pipe change color. It turned from metallic gray to dark red, almost black. The sound the iron pipe made on the prisoner's body was similar to that of meat being beaten in a butcher's shop.

Feeling bile rise into his mouth, Feliciano saw the musician's uniform stain dark red, especially behind his head which was now turning into a dark and unrecognizable mush.

The Italian did not resist anymore and, collapsing into a dark corner of the cabin, threw up what little he had left in his stomach. The guttural sounds he emitted mingled with the loud thundering laughter of the SS.

The Kapo came back with the bloody tube and pointed to another prisoner grinning but in desperation the prisoner went to hide in a corner.

With bloody hands and his face smeared with red, the Kapo briskly went to fish out the prisoner and, after a brief struggle, dragged him out by his collar while the poor man struggled and screamed hysterically.

With tears in his eyes, Feliciano covered his ears and tried to return to his brother, but his legs had turned to jelly. He fell to his knees still holding his hands over his ears, and stood up when he felt two hands on his shoulders.

Relieved and grateful, he thought it was his brother Romano, but as soon as he opened his eyes he was greeted by another pair of orange eyes. He would recognize that color of eyes everywhere. They were Marco's, his best friend's.

"Marco ..." he whispered moved and relieved. And instinctively Feliciano threw his arms around his best friend's neck, reassured for a moment by his sweet and family smell.

"Feliciano, what a relief to see you!" Marco said, returning the embrace but with more force.

The two friends remained so for a while, kneeling and hugging each other for comfort. Feliciano thought that the moment was perfect and for a moment he forgot he was situated in a smelly and dilapidated shack.

"Hey, Marco." Romano's voice said behind their backs.

Feliciano, embarrassed by his behavior, turned away from Marco but continued to hold his arm behind his back, as if unwilling to part with him.

"Ciao, Romano," Marco answered the greeting with a hint of a smile. Then he said, "So you are also housed in this lousy cabin."

Romano gave a small smile and said: "Oh, yeah."

Feliciano simply smiled though his lips trembled. Marco had the ability to joke about everything, and fortunately he had not lost it. Then his thoughts went to Pietro, Romano's best friend.

He was about to ask, but Romano beat him to it.

"Have you seen Pietro?"

At that question Marco's face darkened slightly and his eyes grew sad, but answered calmly, "No, I have not seen him."

Romano nodded, "I understand."

Feliciano looked from Marco to Romano then back to the other boy.

He could tell by the sad expression that Marco knew something, but didn't want to tell Romano. He was about to ask what he was hiding when the silence was again pierced by the cries of inhumane pain.

Frightened Feliciano instinctively hid his face in the crook of Marco's neck and clung forcefully to his back, trembling.

The Kapo walked back into the cabin and without saying anything pulled out another prisoner.

"Oh my God, Oh my God!" Feliciano began to fumble as he heard new music fill the silence outside the cabin and then stop again by screams and applause.

"Calm down, Feliciano," Marco tried to calm him giving him pats on his back, "I am here, here with you."

The Kapo, now also filthy with blood on the pants of his uniform, came in again and stopped.

"You, little one. You play?"

Feliciano felt his blood freeze in his veins and turned his head slightly, terrified by the Kapo.

"Hey, little guy, answer me, I just asked a question," Kapo hissed between his teeth.

Overwhelmed, the Italian looked at the man's white as milk skin now tainted by large patches of blood.

"I-I do not ... know ... no-pla-play ..." Feliciano stammered with tears in his eyes, noticing the Kapo's boots were smeared with blood as well as.

He narrowed his crimson eyes to slits and growled, "I do not give a fuck what you know or if you can't play. Now do the same for them, they just want to have fun."

Feliciano stopped and looked at him with pleading eyes shaking his head, "I do not know how to play ... I do not know how to do ..."

The Kapo shrugged, "I just told you that I do not give a shit and now you're coming with me." With blood on his hands, he tried to grab the Italian but Romano stood in front of him.

"You are not taking anyone," he bravely growled between his teeth and opened his arms. "You will not touch my brother!"

The Kapo sighed annoyed and dealt Romano a kick in the stomach who then rolled to one side.

"You bore me. I have no time to lose," he hissed menacingly and unceremoniously snatched Feliciano from Marco's arms. And before the boy could rebel, he hit him in the head with the iron pipe, making Feliciano shout.

"Marco!"

"You, come with me now," the Kapo growled a few inches from the Italian boy's ear making him tremble with fear.

Feliciano broke down in tears and Kapo hit him on the cheek, causing him to shut up.

"You do not take my brother ... take me ... idiot ...," gasped Romano, rising from the floor with difficulty and leaning toward the man, "Take me ..."

The Kapo casually dropped another kick his stomach, but Romano did not give up and grabbed the man's feet repeating the same phrase, "Take me ... but let my brother ..."

Feliciano looked at the scene with tears in his eyes and piped, "Romano ... just ..."

Romano received another blow to the stomach by the Kapo, who was beginning to get angry.

"You are wasting my time, dirty Jew! Stop it or I'll kill you after your little brother." He shouted menacingly to Romano who was still sprawled face down on the floor.

"Romano, stop! Enough!" Feliciano pleaded when he saw his brother get close to them, coughing up blood.

Romano looked at him and with his chin smeared with blood and whispered, "I-I ... I have to protect you ... "

Those slurred words hit Feliciano so hard that he stopped resisting and, looking away from Romano, followed Kapo obediently.

The Kapo dragged him out of the cabin and on the way hit him several times in the face, cursing in a language that the Italian knew. It was German.

"That's because you made me lose time," he yelled and vehemently hit his cheekbone, splitting it, "That's because you're a dirty Jew!"

Feliciano received the blows without protest and when they arrived in the middle of the courtyard where he had to 'show off', he had almost ceased to feel pain in his cheeks and his stomach.

The SS suddenly stopped talking to each other and focused their attention on him.

Feliciano, swallowing his saliva now mixed with blood, ran his eyes along the row of the SS towards Kommandant Beilschmidt and froze, watching him with much more attention than other soldiers present.

"Heil Hitler," cried the Kapo stretching his right arm towards the SS and sat next to the commander like a faithful dog.

The Italian was silent and kept staring at the captain not knowing why.

A SS man snapped his fingers and a soldier approached Feliciano putting a violin in his hand.

Feliciano looked at the violin and for a moment as he thought he was safe. He just had to play a piece he knew and that would appeal to the Germans, just that.

But then he noticed a corner that had been piled with the bodies of now unrecognizable previous prisoners. He froze with the violin in hand and emptiness in his head. He could not think of anything.

'Oh my God, how it does this sonata begin? How does it go? ... What is the piece by Verdi ... how does it start?' thought the terrified Italian, while the SS stared at him in silence.

At that point, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Kapo in charge of killing him picking up the iron pipe and run toward him. He'd kill him, he knew it.

But then suddenly his hands began to move in perfect harmony and 'The Blue Danube' by Strauss came out of the violin.

Feliciano could not explain this miracle. He had not thought about the 'Blue Danube', ever! He had heard it of course, but in fact, he was ashamed to admit it, had never played it. He had once heard the piece from his grandfather, and his father who played the accordion. But Feliciano had never played it; moreover, he had never learned the score.

"But this isn't classical music!" cried the vexed Kapo, keeping the iron pipe tight in his right hand, and looking menacingly at the Italian.

Then turned to one of the SS all zealous: "So, knock him down?"

The SS officer was humming the melody and followed the rhythm with fingers. "Eins, Zwei, Drei ...". And then he smiled and said, "Leave him alone, he plays sehr gut!"

Slightly encouraged, Feliciano continued to play and when it ended, the SS applauded enthusiastically as if they were attending a play.

"Gut, Jude! Sie können jetzt weg!" one of the SS said motioning with his hand that he could leave.

Incredulous, Feliciano lowered the violin and turned away for once deciding to carry out an order, but a voice stopped him.

"Komm mit mir, Jude."

Feliciano recognized the voice and his heart stopped beating, only to resume at a faster pace.

Keeping his eyes glued to the ground, the Italian turned to the one who had just called: The Kommandant Beilschmidt.

"Komm mit mir, Jude," the commander repeated the order with more force and an arrogant tone of voice.

Knowing what he would face if he did not obey immediately, Feliciano silently followed the commander who had already turned his back sure of the fact that the Italian would obey.

Once they were further away, the German took him to an abandoned building and opened the door.

Feliciano did not know what the place was even if he heard the sound of the lapping of the water from far away.

"Go," the German snapped his fingers and pointed to a room behind him.

"What?" asked the bewildered Italian. He expected an assault by the German rather than an invitation to go to another room.

"I said, go. That's the bathroom. Wipe your face," the commander explained in an icy and indifferent tone, still pointing to the room behind him.

Feliciano obeyed and went into the room, though it was dark. Fumbling around he tried to find the sink and when he finally bumped against it, he turned on the tap. He cupped his hands under the tap water and quickly splashed in it his face.

"Ouch," he exclaimed after a few minutes and covered his face to soothe the pain. The water burned his wounds that were still open and bleeding. He washed his face more cautiously, being careful to clean the wounds and not look at the blood mingled with water.

Once finished, Feliciano returned to the commander and saw him leaning against the wall with a lit cigarette.

His face was dimly lit by the light of the cigarette he was smoking and his features seemed even more terrifying.

"So, you are able to play the violin," the commander said blowing out the smoke. It wasn't a question but a statement.

Feliciano nodded and stood in the doorway. Although the German was not doing anything, he did not trust him.

"How long have you played?" he asked while inhaling cigarette smoke and began fiddling with the lighter.

The Italian lifted his gaze slightly, then said, "From the age of seven, I think."

"What, you think? Do not you remember?"

"No. It's been so many years."

"How old are you, Jew?" the German asked raising his eyes to look at him.

Feliciano was rather uncomfortable because he did not expect to talk to the captain. "I am nineteen years old."

The German seemed to be weighing his words and, putting the lighter in the pocket of his uniform, he asked: "Have you ever been with a woman?"

That question made the boy blush furiously, and he remained silent for several minutes before he answered: "No, never."

The captain chuckled and said, "You've never been with men?"

If the German's first question of didn't utterly embarrass him, this second question sure did. With a stuttering breath and hot cheeks, Feliciano thought of a way to answer him.

No, he had never been with a man, apart from him. Suddenly, the scene of last night appeared before his eyes again and he felt humiliation rise in his throat like bile.

That damn demon did not want to talk to him, only tease him.

"So, I was the first?" the German said throwing the cigarette on the ground and extinguishing it with the tip of his boot.

Feliciano shivered and said nothing. He was too disgusted to confirm the commander's claim.

"Komm her, Jude," he ordered him while he pushed off the wall.

Instinctively, the boy took a step back, but the German's expression changed his mind and he went to him.

"You know, little Jew, I must admit that I liked the way you played the violin. I love music, although I prefer Classical," the German told him while pushing him against the wall.

Feliciano forced himself to look at him as he spoke. The dim light of the moon, aided by the headlights, only made his master's blue eyes visible, making the Italian cringe.

"Ja, I like music, but I must admit I prefer the sound of moans and screams of fear," the commander blew on his face a few inches from his lips.

The warm breath smelled of beer and hit his lips leaving a sour taste his mouth.

"Above all, _your_ cries of fear. I like them. They are the best music I've ever heard, " the commander ferociously confessed while rubbing his hips against the boy, making him understand that he was excited.

Frightened, the Italian felt something hard press against his belly and it did not take long to figure out what it was. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them just in time to see that the commander was raising a hand over his head.

"Kneel, Jew," he ordered him between his teeth while pushing his head to make him kneel.

During his descent, Feliciano accidentally brushed his lips against the German's erection and felt his body react in a strange way.

"Open my pants," ordered the German, always keeping his hand on the boy's head.

Feliciano did so, and with trembling fingers slipped off the belt and lowered his zipper. Then, aided by the German, he lowered his boxers and took the commander's now full erection into his hands.

"You know what to do," the commander said concisely as his hand forced Feliciano's head closer to his member.

Choking back tears, the Italian opened his mouth and took in the German's erection. He touched the German's member with his tongue and began to lick it.

"Gut ..." Ludwig sighed heavily as he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

Feliciano opened his mouth even more to take in the whole erection but he almost choked and decided to continue licking the member rather than sucking it.

Although he did not want to admit it, because he knew that it was something perverse and horrible, Feliciano felt his body react differently. It seemed that his body found some sort of pleasure in the German's body and the confirmation came when Ludwig began to take off his shirt.

"Get up!" he said, pulling the Italian from his member.

Feliciano did so, and for a moment stared at the German's chest, his flat and toned belly, and finally his face. Involuntarily his cheeks had become hot.

He saw that the commander had taken off his black cap and realized that his hair was light blond.

From his crystal-blue eyes to his hair that was held back with gel, he personified the fearful Aryan warrior.

'He should be superior to me because he has blue eyes and blonde hair.' the Italian thought, summarizing in a simplistic thought a more perverse and difficult to understand ideology.

The commander stared at him in turn, as if he were studying him, then raised a hand and touched his face gently.

Feliciano was surprised by that gesture of kindness, but then he realized that the German was tracing his wounds with the tips of his fingers. He remained motionless while the captain continued to touch his wounds, but could not suppress a groan of protest when Ludwig touched the wound on his right cheekbone.

"It's still bleeding," Ludwig observed, noting that his glove was stained with blood on the fingertips.

The Italian closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them just in time to see the Kommandant bring his lips to his face. The German sensually ran his tongue over Feliciano's wound.

The Italian opened his eyes and remained rigid with his arms still at his sides. The gesture was so primitive and animalistic that it left him stunned and not knowing what to do. Yet his body seemed to know.

As the German ran his tongue over his wound, his face had instinctively approached his master's lips begging for more.

Uncomfortable with the strange request from his body, Feliciano tried to resist but it was in vain.

His hands had gone to touch the hot commander's bare shoulders and clung to them with despair.

He blushed when he realized that he was breathing with difficulty and that his heart had stopped in his throat.

When he felt Ludwig's hands slip under the shirt of his uniform, he arched his back and his hips rubbing against the commander's still hard erection creating a bubble of fire in his stomach which left him breathless.

The captain pulled away from him and ordered him to take off his jacket and pants. The young man obeyed in clumsy motions, then waited naked and frightened.

He realized that in two days he had seen death and violence to make him crave the hands and the body of the commander.

In comparison to the blows and kicks received from other soldiers since he arrived in the camp, the caresses of the rough and violent German were heavenly.

In a sense, Ludwig was the only one who was offering him a little attention and affection. And it mattered little to the Italian at that point whether he did it with less than noble intentions.

If by kissing the brutal commander he could forget what he had seen in those two days and at the same time could save his brother, Feliciano was willing to let go. He needed a little warmth, and at that moment, in that small and cold dark room, the German was the only one who could offer him.

He did not protest when the commander grabbed him by the hair and threw him on the floor on his knees.

He closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists when he felt the commander stooping behind him, take him by the hips and raise his bare buttocks.

Ludwig muttered something in German with one hand on the Italian's back holding him down while the other led his throbbing erection into the young man's hole.

"Agh ..." was the only thing Feliciano could say when he felt the tip of the commander's member trying to penetrate inside him. It was too big, it would not enter into him; it would hurt.

"Please ... no ..." he murmured pitifully to Ludwig. And trying to move him with compassion, he turned his head slightly to one side to look into his eyes. "Enough ..."

But the German did not listen to the pleas of the boy; he wanted to fuck him. He pushed his hips more firmly against the Italian's ass, but his member almost slipped out. Then he grabbed Feliciano's arms and folded him in half. That position eased the penetration.

"No ... no ..." Feliciano tried one last time to plead with the Aryan. Yet his body enjoyed that forceful grip with the German's rubbing his sides against his ass. The proof was his almost erect member.

Feliciano moaned shamefully and bit his lower lip to keep from moaning again. But another stronger push made him cry out somewhere between pain and excitement.

The Aryan was now completely inside the boy and did not wait for him to get used to him. He started to thrust his hips with ferocity, back and forth, grinding his teeth to not moan at the boy beneath him. He had never in his life wanted to fuck a Jew, especially a male, as much as he did now.

There was something absurdly perverse and unnatural in the way his body wanted to sink into the Italian and do what he usually did with his whores in the concentration camp.

Ludwig shook his head to clear those thoughts and simply sink into him with anger, following the logic of some of his comrades: "Bend down and shoot. They are all the same."

"Ah ... it hurts ... Kommandant ... hurts ...," Feliciano moaned. But he didn't know to which extent those thrusts were hurting him and where they began to give him pleasure. It was an exchange of pain and pleasure so intense and overwhelming that he could not resist and left the primitive instinct of his body in control.

He arched his back, moaning and screaming.

Ludwig pushed harder as if his life depended on those thrusts, and he began to moan like an animal.

"Gott ... gh ... ah ... ah ... ah ..."

The Italian began to pant louder and louder, ashamed of how his own body was shaken by hot electrical charges with every violent thrust by the German. By now, he was lost in a passion of which he had knowledge.

They both began to scream and moan, and Ludwig now completely lost in his own lust, let go of the Italian's arms and began to take him like he had seen some stray dogs once.

It was an animalistic, violent and fierce physical desire for both. In their movements, especially the Aryan's, there was no room for the caresses or sweet words but only for the primitive fury.

Feliciano, no longer conscious of his body, lifted his hips a little more to ease the German's penetration and groaned louder when Ludwig unknowingly touched a special part inside his body.

"Yes ... agh ... again ... again ... ah!" exclaimed the out of control Italian, pushing his bare buttocks against the commander to repeat the motion. When the captain pushed forward, he stroked him again.

The blond instinctively ducked his head close to that of the Italian and bit his ear hard.

"No ... Kommandant ... don't bite ... ear ... yes, yes ..." Feliciano managed to say with what little breath he had left. But his words were not heard.

Both lost in their own pleasure, they continued to moan and pant hard. Feliciano cried, completely out of control, and his body was sweaty and flushed. Ludwig pushed his hips back and forth with force, drowning his groans against the Italian's naked back.

"Yes ... ah ... ah ... ah! More, more, more! "

The noise made by their naked and sweaty bodies as well as their groans was almost obscene but did not seem to matter to either of them.

The small and dark room was filled with the sound of wet flesh sinking into another, and throaty moans and excited screams.

"Yes, yes ... yes ... God, yes!"

"Agh ... Gott ... gh ..."

Feliciano felt a ball of fire fill his stomach and quickly spread into his body. He let out a liberating and excited cry.

Ludwig felt that he was about to reach his end and he raised his naked torso back from the Italian to firmly grasp his butt, knowing that the gesture would give him more pleasure. He gritted his teeth and thrust with more ferocity, and finally the orgasm washed over him. Unwittingly he released his seed inside the Italian, who, however, had not arrived at his climax, and finally relaxed.

The Italian's eyes widened when he felt something hot invade his body. When he realized what he had just done, it felt like a bucket of ice water had hit his face.

He was lying on the floor with his rear end raised like a bitch in heat, and with a German bowed behind him.

What had he done?

When he felt the member of the Aryan slip out of him, he stayed in that position with his back turned rather than turn his head to the commander and face the facts: he had been fucked like a whore from his tormentor and blackmailer.

He did not turn when Ludwig began to recover his uniform pants and tie. He did not turn when the German began to walk towards the door as if nothing happened. He remained silent when the commander said coldly: "Thank you for the pleasant fuck, Jew-bitch." And threw a bar wrapped with aluminum foil as a reward in front of the Italian's eyes moist with tears.

**Authors' note: Excuse the delay, please. But finding inspiration and try to "mitigate" a scene that would be just violence, it is difficult.**

**Thanks to Callmelittlewolf, My Beta! **

**History note**:

**Kapo**: the guardians of the prisoners. They recruited by the SS from criminals and murderers and of the Aryan race. Only in the end, the Kapo were also Jews.

**The soldiers loved music** and occasionally allowed the Jews to play. Although in the end they killed them. The only music allowed was the **classical.**

**Translate:**

Ninna nanna:

Lullaby, Lullaby, ooh

Lullaby, lullaby, ooh,

Who will I give this baby to?

If I give him to the old hag,

For a week she will keep him.

If I give him to the bogeyman,

For a whole year he'll keep him,

Lullaby, lullaby,

I will keep this baby for me!

**Thanks to my new followers:**

Consuming Endless Nightmare

DenEnsammaSkytten

DinoMoMo

Evil Wrapped in Sweetness

HorseLuver713

Katia27

Limitenacionism

Madame-Neko

MidnightWolf167

Nyx Calliope

Winter's Hime

azaneti

chocorrola

gerita lover14

puppypaw10

.shadows

**Rewiews:**

Shiona Acitiu

Cursedbluemoon

kara-hime24

littlewolfwindspeaker

DinoMoMo

pandy334

Callmelittlewolf's note: I am terribly, terribly sorry for keeping everyone waiting. I've been really sick to the point of being in the hospital. CatItalian92 has been so patient with me ^_^"


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